What Happened to Mister America?
by PRAUS
Summary: "You're at a crossroads, boy."  America's going through some tough times right now.  Maybe he's not as cool as he thought...then again, maybe that stupid voice should just shut up!  Rated T for some language/depressing stuff. America/Canada/England/OC
1. Chapter 1  Mustang Sally

'_Sup Britain? Dude I'm having an air show at the end of the month. Sort of an early birthday celebration and it'd be totally cool if you came! I'm taking the old 'Stang out for a spin before the big event. Canada's flying in to check out my practice runs and it'd be awesome if the old trio could get together again. Maybe have a few drinks and stuff, you know? Anyways, let me know what's up. ~America_

England stared at the scribbled words. It still bothered him America never learned proper penmanship, or grammar for that matter. A grease smudge in the corner told him his former charge had been eating a hamburger when he wrote it. England smiled in spite of himself as he picked up the phone. He thought it a little odd America hadn't phoned him to tell him about the air show but pushed it out of his head as he began to dial.

_"__Hello? __Mr.__America__'__s __house.__"_

"Li-Lithuania? What are you doing there?"

_"__Oh, __hello __Mr. __England! __I__'__m __helping __Mr. __America __get __ready __for __the __event. __He__'__s __been __so __busy __lately __with __the __preparations__…__.__"_

"Ah, I see. Well is he home?"

On the other end, Lithuania paused, twirling his finger around the phone cord. "Um, h-he's resting right now…."

_"__Resting? __What __the __hell __do __you __mean__ '__resting?__' __The __America __I __know __can __barely __sit __still __for __a __second, __especially __when __there__'__s __a __big __to-do __and __he__'__s __the __center __of __it.__"_

Lithuania was silently slapping the palm of his hand against his forehead. _Stupid. __Stupid. __You __could __have __come __up __with __a __better __lie __than __that!_ "W-well, it's true, sir. I think all the running around caught up with him."

_"__Hm. __I __see. __Well, __tell __him __I __phoned __and __that __I__'__ll __be __in __for __his __bloody __air__show.__"_

"Of course, Mr. England."

Lithuania set the receiver down, exhaling in relief. He really hadn't _lied,_merely stretched the truth to fit the situation. America _was_ up in his room, though "resting" was probably the wrong word for it. Besides, he had given strict orders to the Baltic nation that under no circumstances (excepting mealtimes) was he to be disturbed.

Lithuania sighed. England's words bothered him. _America __never __sits __still._ It was true. But for the past week America didn't seem like his old energetic self. He'd been raving about his plans for this air show for months and then suddenly, a week before trial runs, Lithuania found out America hadn't even called England and Canada to tell them about it.

_But __they__'__re __your __brothers.__They __have __to __come, _Lithuania had said.

_Yeah, __you__'__re __right. __I__'__ll __call __ '__em __after __dinner,_was America's answer.

This went on for a few days – Lithuania telling America to phone and America finding some excuse not to. Finally, Lithuania thrust a pen and paper in front of America during lunch and forced him to write the letters. He went to mail them but halfway to the mailbox, America turned around and dashed back inside, shaking head to toe and saying "I can't do it" over and over. He made a motion to tear the letters in half, but Lithuania quickly snatched them from his trembling fingers.

_Mr. __America, __what __is __wrong?_

_I…I need some rest. _

_Certainly. I'll bring you some coffee later, okay? _

_Yeah…yeah, that'd be great._

_It__'__s __just __stress,_Lithuania told himself. _He __may __be __foolhardy __when __it __comes __to __some__things, __but __I __know __he__'__s __worked __hard __on __getting __this __together __and __he __wants __it __to __be __perfect. __It__'__s __stress. __That__'__s __all __it __is._

America idly tossed a baseball up and down as he paced his room. He'd heard the phone ring and saw England's number on the caller ID. His hand even reached out to answer it, but something stopped him - the same thing that stopped him from mailing the letters. An icy cold dread settled in his stomach and he knew what would follow. The nameless feeling with all the weight of a cargo ship pressed in his head, on his shoulders, and he needed to lie down. England probably wasn't even calling about the air show. It was probably some other matter because he knew the letters hadn't gotten to his brothers. Besides, why would they want to come anyway? They'd just get bored or say he was showing off again. _Why __would __anyone __want __to __come __see __you?__You__'__re __just __a __screwball, __dashing __headlong __into __things. __Are __you __sure __your __plane __will __even __fly? __When __was __the __last __time __you __even __took __it __any where? _

America gritted his teeth. That _voice_ – that sleek and twisting dark voice! – wound it's way through his head. _Shut __up!_he screamed at it. _Shut__up. __Shut__up__shut__up__shut__up__shut__up! _

_But __you __know __I__'__m __right. __They __all __hate __you__…__._

America bolted up and grabbed the baseball as a distraction. Just a few quick tosses and the sneering in his head would be gone. It had worked in the past, but the voice seemed to be getting stronger. And today was no exception.

America turned on the radio, cranking the volume up, willing the music to fill every square inch of him. America turned the dials, searching the airwaves for _something_to chase the voice away. He smiled when he found a Motown station. They were playing Wilson Pickett's _Mustang __Sally._

America thought of his plane. His P-51 Mustang. His beloved Sally.

* * *

><p>"So this is it, eh?"<p>

"Yup. She's a beaut, isn't she?"

"Yeeeeaaaahhh," Canada drawled, staring wide-eyed at the nearly naked Marilyn Monroe-inspired pin-up painted on the side of America's plane.

"Canada!" England shielded the other nation's eyes with his hands. "That hardly seems appropriate."

"Dude, don't disrespect my Sally," America said.

"That wasn't – I didn't mean – Canada!" England sputtered as the younger nation pushed his hand away.

"Aw let 'im look," America said.

England huffed, dropping his hand. "Fine."

America had painted the plane a candy apple red – echoing the color scheme of the '64 and a half Ford model that sat parked in his driveway with the license plate that read "Sally 2". England remembered when America had first shown him the plane decades ago. Its coloring definitely seemed more Spartan back then – olive drab anti glare panel, big black code letters on the fuselage and tail, unpainted metal finish glinting against the sun, and, of course, the white star encircled with blue. It was the only thing he kept when he re-did the paint job. He had always been so flashy, but only when showing off his newest toys. England sighed. He had tried to dress America up, like a proper gentleman, but the young nation wouldn't have any of it. Hell, America _still_ hated formal attire, preferring to receive guests in worn jeans or worse – pajama pants and flip flops. England shook his head. He still didn't understand how America could spend so much time and effort into his hobbies but never on himself.

"Ready to see this thing in action?"

America's voice shook England out of his reverie.

"We _have _seen it in action…years ago." The words were out before he could stop them. England silently cursed his cynical self. America's mouth twitched down in the slightest of frowns, but he quickly recovered.

"Not like this! Dude, it's gonna be sweet! I got some badass loops planned…a few barrel rolls…just you wait Britain…."

* * *

><p>As the plane climbed higher, all the fear and anxiety seemed to shrink away along with the ground.<p>

When he reached an acceptable altitude, America took the plane into a barrel roll before executing a vertical dive, pulling the nose up just in time. England and Canada watched from the ground as the plane whizzed by, the body seeming to be only a few feet from skidding across the runway.

Canada let out a puff of air, raking his hands through his hair.

"_That_ was close," England mumbled.

America pulled the nose up and the plane climbed higher and higher, making an arc. America laughed. Up in the air, he felt completely carefree. Nothing could touch him and anything was possible. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that way.

America laughed again as he rounded the arc, but as he did, a voice that wasn't his screamed in his head. _Flashy __Mister __America. __Fantastical, __heroical, __moronical __Mister __America._ _Hey,__idiot! __You __know __which __way __is __up? __Haha, __didn__'__t __think __so__…__better __check __your __instruments. __You __really __are __nothing __but __a __big __fuck __up._

America shook his head, trying to clear out the voice.

"Shut up shut up shut up!" he yelled.

_Open your eyes and look outside. Where's the horizon?_

America's eyes flew open. He didn't know when he'd shut them or for how long. He frantically searched for the horizon before realizing he was looking at nothing but green trees and grass. He hurried to pull the plane out of its dive, managing to get the nose up; but the body hit the ground, bouncing once…twice… before finally skidding to a halt.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN** Just to clarify, I did not write this to reflect the tragic events at the Reno air show on September 17th. I chose the P-51 Mustang because it still is such an iconic piece of American military history…and I mean, c'mon, we named a car after it too. This was intended to be a one-shot but has now morphed into a two-possibly-three-part story. I wrote this as a reflection of the current situation in America (more will become clearer in the second part, I hope). Being an American, I feel we desperately need a change in this country…yeah, it's easy to say and I'm not sure what that change is yet – maybe we need to wake up and realize we aren't top dog anymore and haven't been for some time. I don't know...I just feel like we're screwing ourselves over and something major is going to happen. Everything just feels so uncertain. So, yeah, that's my little ramble…I'll get off my soapbox now._

_I don't know too much about flying and airplane terminology but tried to be as accurate as I could. If anyone sees any glaring mistakes, please let me know so I can correct them._

_And I know in the comic, Lithuania lives with America during the Great Depression before being taken back by Russia, but I kinda liked the idea of Lithuania being America's maid (don't know why, it's a sorta neat pairing) and wanted to bring Liet back to live with America during the modern day, if only temporarily._

_Thanks for reading and feel free to review!_


	2. Chapter 2  Crossroads

_**A/N**__ A quick note on the text – the funky spelling/grammar IS intentional. If you're not familiar with Southern American speech, it helps to read the parts when the Ferryman (aka Mississippi River) speaks out loud with a Southern twang. Think Mark Twain and __Huckleberry Finn__._

* * *

><p>The gentle sound of water lapping the shore woke him. Bright blue sky replaced the sleep-laden black as he opened one eye, then the other. Tall grass tickled his arms and neck as he turned his head, taking in his surroundings. Hazy shapes – trees, rocks, hills – began to re-form. He was beside a river.<p>

America propped himself up with both elbows. He could see the river's wide expanse as it stretched away to touch the opposite shore. The air had a fresh, clean smell to it, like after a morning rain. America breathed it in, pushing himself up into a seated position. When was the last time he'd done this? Just sat by a river and let everything pass by? He couldn't remember. It was so quiet. Not even the birds sang. Only the breeze made the slightest of whispers through the leaves. America shut his eyes, listening. He thought he heard people talking, not close but maybe a few miles downstream, but then again that could have just been the soft _whoosh_ of water flowing over river stones.

He opened his eyes again and was surprised to see a figure on a raft coming towards him.

The raft crunched against the sand as its captain guided it to shore. He pulled it onto the bank before ambling up the gentle incline towards America.

The seated nation could see the man wore a wide-brimmed hat and loose fitting shirt under a pair of faded blue overalls and was barefoot.

"Mornin'," the man waved. "Glad t' see yer up."

He plopped down beside America, took off his hat and fanned himself with it. "Shoo', it's gonna be a hot one today."

America nodded. The man squinted back towards the river. Lines crossed his weathered face, crinkling up with his eyes and around his mouth, but it did not make him look _old_. If America had to pick one word to describe this man's appearance, he would say he looked _wise_. And he couldn't shake the feeling that he _knew_ this man.

"Where am I?"

"Oh, I 'spect somewhere 'tween Arkansas and Tennessee," the man shrugged. "Don't really care too much for the east and west of it. Only the north and south's what concerns me."

"Why's that?"

The man stopped fanning himself, giving America a sideways look. "Shoo' boy, don't you recognize me?"

America stared back, blank-faced.

"Aw hell, I 'spect not seein' as how you ain't visited me since yer trek westward. I'm the Mighty Mississippi! Don't tell me you don' recognize Ole Blue!"

America's face broke into a wide grin. "Dude! Oh my God! Like, I haven't seen you in years! So how've ya been?"

"Oh, fine I guess. These old bones're still running so I can't complain."

"Whatcha been up to?"

"Same ol' same ol'. Takin' folks where they need to go and what not."

Blue squinted back across his river. America followed his gaze and in the distance he can see some figures gathering around the edge of the banks.

"Looks like you got some visitors."

"…Yeah."

Blue dropped his gaze, donning his hat. He hugged his knees to his chest, resting his chin on them.

"Don't care too much for the east and west…" he mumbled.

"What?"

"Look, son, we ain't got much time 'fore I gotta pick them folks up. You remember at all how you got here?"

America furrowed his brows. Flashes of red and sky-blue pop in his mind.

"My plane," he whispered.

"That's right. Anything else?"

"…I was doing a trial run. England and Canada were there and – where you there too? Did you my sweet barrel roll?"

Blue shook his head. "'Fraid not, son. You remember anything else?"

_You're just a screw up._

"…That voice…."

_They all hate you._

"I-I crashed."

Blue nodded. "You know why?"

"I was listening to it again. That voice. And I thought it may be right this time." America buried his face in his hands. "God I suck! Why do they hate me?"

"They don't hate you, son. They jus' don't under_stand_ you. You were born from fightin', so that's all you know. But you can't approach everything all guns ablazin'. You may be strong, but yer still young, yet. Them others been around centuries longer'n you, so they almost forgot what it's like. They had their days of empire buildin' only to get chased back to their own lands again. But you, you never had that. Hell, you were born a colony! And then you got this crazy notion in yer head 'bout expansion. And it may have worked back then. But now's a whole new ball game. Folks don't appreciate you comin' in like you own the place. I'm gonna tell ya something: You can't police the world forever. It wears on you. That's why you been havin' them spells with that voice o' yours. They can take care o' theirs jus' like you _need_ to take care o' yours. Yer at a crossroads now, son. You can go back and try t' fix it or you can be the same ol' America."

America was twisting blades of grass in his fingers. "…You're right, Blue. I need to fix this."

Blue smiled, clapping a hand on America's shoulder. "That's what I thought, kid. C'mon, I'll take you back across."

They went down to the raft, America helping Blue push it back into the water.

He sat on the edge, feet dangling in the cool waters while Blue guided it across with the raft pole.

The afternoon heat covered the once blue sky with a milky haze. America loved summer days like this in the South – the ones where you had to take it slow, not move too fast or you'd be dripping in sweat. On days like this, it was best to just curl up under a shady tree with a glass of icy sweet tea and listen to the hum of cicadas. It had been years since he'd done just that and he decided it was high time he started again.

America pulled his feet out of the water and swung around to face the nearing shore. The dust hung high in the air, almost meeting the pale sky. He could barely make out the shapes of the others waiting to cross.

"Heat sure is intense today, huh?"

"Yep. But I s'pose it don't really bother me."

"…Yeah. Is it just me or is the shore getting harder to see?"

"Nah. Just the haze. We'll be there soon," Blue said as he sank the pole beneath the river's glassy surface. "Son, I want you to promise me something."

"What's that?"

"When yer feelin' better, I want you to visit me again an' I'll take you up an' down this river. We'll start up north at the head waters and work our way south. How's that sound?"

"Well, sure! But what do you mean when I feel better?"

"Jus' close yer eyes, son. We'll be there soon," Blue smiled.

And he did.

* * *

><p>When America opened his eyes again, he was in a blinding white room. An itchy gauze bandage was wrapped around his head and one leg was held up in a sling, his toes poking out of the white cast.<p>

"He's awake," a soft voice said.

America shifted his eyes to see who had spoken. They felt dull and heavy.

Two blurry shapes sat beside his bed – one leaning forward, head cradled in hands, and the other clutching a stuffed polar bear.

"Hey…guys," America breathed.

England's head jerked up. His eyes were rimmed with red. He hastily wiped them with his shirtsleeve.

"How're you feeling?" Canada asked.

"I'm good…little…bro."

"…You bastard," England whispered. "You scared the hell out of us!"

America grinned, wanting to make some joke about how the countries couldn't get on without him but thought better of it.

"What he means is we're just glad to see you're OK," Canada said.

"I know. That's just…his way."

England let out a little laugh. America smiled back.

"Just promise us, no more stunts," England said.

"Don't worry…about…me. I know…what I did…wrong. And I know…how to fix it. I'm fine, guys. Really…I'm fine."

England and Canada looked at each other for a moment.

"Okay, but we're visiting you tomorrow and the next day and the next until you're better again," England said.

"Yeah, and even then, we'll still visit you."

America smiled, nodding.

England took his hand, giving it the slightest squeeze, before exiting the room with Canada.

America watched them go, smiling to himself. _I'm fine._ He reached over for the remote and turned on the television. _I really am fine._ It was just after one o'clock. Maybe if he was lucky, he could still catch a baseball game.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN (2)** Wow, so I know I started this waaayy back in the fall, and really I should have had this part posted a while ago, but distractions (you know how they can be). Anyway, on to the meat_

_ Mythology – Essentially America dies in this chapter – the scene with him talking to the Mississippi River was meant to kinda parallel with the River Styx and Charon in Greek mythology. When America wakes up, he is on the opposite bank, about to enter the world of the dead, but the Mississippi decides to give him a second chance and ferries him back across to rejoin the world of the living._

_ Mississippi River – the largest river system in America, beginning in Minnesota and flowing southward to empty out at the Gulf of Mexico. It has been memorialized in literature and song and has many nicknames, most notably: Ol' Man River, The Big Muddy, Old Blue, The Gathering of Waters, and so on._

_ And as far as America being OK, he really is in this story….but I've got a feeling this year's election might just rip us apart again (thatcouldjustbemethough) At any rate, it is bound to be interesting. _

_ Thank you guys so much for being patient with me while I finished this. Hope you enjoy. Reviews are always welcome._


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